


Snapdragons

by Catsitta



Series: Assorted Oneshots [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Afterlife, Aftertale Sans - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Aftertale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Reapertale (Undertale), Angst, Complicated Relationships, Drama, Established Relationship, Established Soriel, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, LifeAfterDeath - Freeform, M/M, Mild Blood, Multi, Polyamory, Power Imbalance, Reapertale Sans - Freeform, Reapertale Toriel - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Soriel, Toriel is still technically married to Asgore, afterdeath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: After all their years together, Life knows how Death looks when he is in love.LifeAfterDeath | Oneshot | Romance





	Snapdragons

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes that the main conflict of the Reapertale comic never occurs/hasn't occurred. Life and Death met and continued to meet in Life's garden without disruption.

If one were to ask a mortal, they might say that Life’s love affair with Death was an entirely expected thing. A way for the universe to find Balance between creation and decay. Without Life there would have never been Death. Unfortunately for the pair, their fellow gods would not see it as so, but instead, a breach of trust and oath. So what if Life wanted nothing to do with her husband? Death never confessed where she hid despite finding the missing goddess the others looked for so desperately for an eon. Their Queen. Death couldn’t touch a living thing without killing it. He shouldn’t dare breathe the same air as she, much less cavort with the essence of Life itself, the risk too great.

Yet here they were, entangled in a shared secret.

One years in the making.

Falling in love was treachery. 

But life, as it were, moved on. Life continued to watch over her mortals, and Death reaped their souls when the time came. A cycle. One filled with joy and tragedy. Because Death never asked to be made as he was, and Life once blamed him for the very fate her existence made necessary. Comfort came in their blossoming affections. Stolen moments of companionship. Gifts made of each other’s magic. They were happy. 

And then…

Then Life saw a change in him. A sort of odd distance. Like he was solving an especially difficult puzzle, or contemplating a Soul’s rather gruesome demise. She let him have his quietness. Sitting with him on a bench in her garden, the birds singing around them, the grass withering where Death’s feet touched the ground. There were a few more visits like this before he broke the growing silence, “tori, do you think it possible to heal someone who is deathless?”

“What a strange question,” Life peered down at the small, cloaked skeleton, his form swallowed up by his robes, only his feet, face and hands left bare. The tips of his phalanges laid close to her paw. If she were able to hold his hand, her paw would engulf it completely. “One can only be deathless if not alive to start, and the inanimate cannot be healed. Mended, perhaps, but not healed.” Not even the gods were deathless. Ageless and near impossible to kill, yes, but even they could die. Even Death himself would succumb to nonexistence should there ever be a day where no life remained in the multiverse, leaving him purposeless. 

“what if it couldn’t be reaped, then. undying yet trapped in a constant state of demise. would it be possible to break the cycle so that it wasn’t...not dying?”

“...I suppose...Sans, what brought this on?”

Death stood up, “work calls. seed you later.”

And with that, he was gone. He didn’t visit again for a long while. Not unusual. While Death liked to find excuses to laze about her garden, there were times where he couldn’t escape his duties even for a stolen nap. When he returned, there was a softness to his smile, a distractedness to the way he spoke. He spent the whole visit trading jests and jokes, laughing open and carelessly. Before he left, Death motioned to a patch of withered snapdragons, their seed pods like clusters of human skulls, and bid her to think about him while he was gone. It was nice. He rarely made light of his purpose. Yes, he made quips, but it wasn’t often he saw something where death and life touched, and commented on the beauty of rebirth within decay. 

But as he left, Life could only sigh and stare sadly at the flowers. She knew that look. She knew it well. She saw it in flashes before they started their taboo courtship. Death was in love. And it was with someone other than her. 

“Do you even know how you feel, my love?” Life pondered aloud, fighting back the growing ache in her Soul. She supposed it was inevitable. It was karma. Punishment for her sins. Who was she to demand faithfulness from her lover, when she herself was flouting her vows, and had long ago abandoned her duties as Queen? 

One day, Death came to visit, and didn’t come alone. 

Betrayal ripped through Life’s whole being. How could he? He promised not to tell anyone where she was! Fire alit on her palms, tears burning in her eyes. If she must, she would fight to preserve her sanctuary. 

“t-tori! tori help!”

The fires guttered out, the ache in Death’s voice unfamiliar and frightening. She’d never heard the unflappable god panic. He laughed maliciously at war and grew irate when discomforted, but panic? No. Life hurried to the barrier, verdant robes translucent in the afternoon sun, setting her form aglow with a shimmering, ethereal radiance. It took only a moment to find Death staggering towards their usual meeting spot, a bundle of white-and-red gathered in his arms, its form nearly as big as he. She spotted a dangling limb, phalanges peeking from an ivory sleeve, and realized in an instant that Death held a skeleton monster. A mortal, skeleton monster. 

Was it possible that Death, whom often spoke ill of mortals, had fallen in love with one? Life hurried to his side, mindful not to touch exposed bone, and took the mortal into her arms. Across the skeleton’s chest was a bleeding wound, blistering with DETERMINATION and hate. By all accounts, he should be dead...was dying...yet...Life watched as Death smoothed a finger over the smaller’s skull. 

Deathless. 

“heal him.” Life hesitated, uncertain if it was within even her great power to mend this injury. And she had an eerie feeling that this was trespass. That even if she could, she shouldn’t. This skeleton belonged in Death’s domain. More dead than alive. “please tori. he...he trusted me to take him from the save screen. i promised i’d find a way to free him.” 

“...You hate making promises.”

She drew in a breath and laid a paw over the skeleton’s chest, focusing on picking apart and reknitting the wound, a chill growing deeper in her with every passing minute. He felt unnatural to her. A cross between a corpse and a newborn. Warped. Twisted. Wrong. His existence defied nature. He was an abomination. An anomaly. Yet…

Life let out a ragged breath and gazed down at the mortal. Half his skull was covered in odd, shifting pixels. Death explained glitches to her once. The idea that all of existence could be broken into code and how some bits of code broke or was corrupted. She skimmed a finger through a cluster of glitches, feeling the bumpy remnants of a half-melted socket beneath. 

“well?”

“I’ve done what I can. He appears stable, but...I do not know what would happen if he left my domain.”

To her surprise, Death began to laugh, low and relieved, “you’re the best.”

“Sans, if this mortal is deathless, why did you worry so greatly about his healing?”

“...because...he wouldn’t die, tori. he’d just stop existing. his realm sustained him, put a...pause on his not-death…like a stasis.”

“And you took him from there, aware that he might simply cease to exist?”

“i had to try.”

“...Why?”

Death and Life stared at one another until Death’s shoulders dropped, “i...i dunno. he seemed so sad and…”

Life turned her gaze down at the mortal, who while stable, continued to bleed. His wound eternal. Carved into his very ‘code’. “I see,” she held the skeleton close. “What is his name?”

“heh, funny that, we’re both sans-ational. but he’s taken to calling himself geno.”

“Geno?”

“yeah, short for genocide.” Life inhaled sharply at Death’s nonchalant reveal, pinning him with a dark look. “let’s just say some mortals can be exceedingly determined to be cruel. can i ask another favor? make sure he isn’t alone when he wakes up.” And then he was gone, teleporting away, no doubt unable to resist some kind of summons. Life adjusted the mortal—Geno—on her lap, mind full of unanswered questions.

It was three days before the mortal woke.

Geno slept in as if in a coma, seemingly without need for food or drink, his torn remnant of a soul beating steadily. It ached to look upon it, even through the neutral gaze of a physician. Life was minding a nearby patch of flowers when she sensed a shift in the air, the temperature dropping, cooled by the magic put off by the mortal’s quickening soulbeat. She hurried to his side and smoothed a palm over his skull, shushing him, offering a gentle glow of healing to soothe whatever aches might ail him. Geno twisted, fighting against some unseen demon, before his healthy socket popped open, eyelight swollen and bright. It flicked with warning before sputtering into a tiny spec, that short burst of energy enough to exhaust him.

Impressive for a dead thing.

Geno regarded her with a confused stare, “tori? that you?”

Life wanted to shake Death. It wasn’t his place to share her true name! “Greetings mortal, you have been asleep for a while, how do you feel and what do you remember?” Her tone was level, a hint chilled by frustration.

Geno blinked, his skull tilting, taking in the colors of the garden, the endless sky above, and then, Life herself. A hint of rose dashed across his maxilla, “uh...m-mortal? wait, does that mean you’re not...toriel? you look just like...no...i guess it makes sense. she’s gone. you must be a friend of reaper’s.” Life’s expression softened. “heh. guess if i’m here, and you’re here...he wasn’t lying…” Geno coughed, blood spattering onto the stone bench on which he laid. “as for how i feel, uh, no worse than normal...little more tired i guess. i don’t remember much after reaper told me he was gonna take me to a friend of his. he pulled me into the void and then...nothing.”

“Do you need to sleep again, mortal?”

Her answer came as him slumping unconscious once more.

“how’s he doing?”

“As well as expected, I suppose. He’s woken up twice since you brought him to me.”

“that’s my geno. doin’ the unbe-leaf-able.”

“i’m not your anything, asshole.”

Life and Death both yanked their attention to Geno, who, as if inspired by his aggravation at their conversation, was struggling into an upright position. Life tutted disapprovingly at the mortal’s audacity, but Death didn’t balk for an instant. He floated to Geno and helped the smaller skeleton to sit up, chuckling in that way that left even the gods shuddering with discomfort. 

“awe, don’t be so thorny, i made good on my promise, bud.” He perched beside Geno and promptly dragged the other into his lap, cuddling him like he was an ornery cat that was more hiss than scratch. Life felt her Soul twinge at the sight. She recalled the Brothers always being physically affectionate as children, holding hands and carrying each other around. And the Younger covered himself up in such a way that he could hug and carry on with his fellow divine with little fear of harming them. But Sans? Life never saw him attempt the same. And he looked so...happy.

She swallowed down the burning ache, watching as Geno gave a token struggle, elbowing his captor and grumbling more curses before slouching in Death’s hold.

“you’re not confined to the save screen anymore. i dunno if you’ll be able to go to my realm or elsewhere, but, here, heh, you can see the sun and the stars.” Geno shrank a bit against Death as the implication of those words seemed to sink in, his eyelight skipping from tree, to sky to flower. “uh, something wrong? this is what you wanted...right?”

“y-yeah. yeah it is. it’s just, after all those years...all those resets...i’m not…it...”

“overwhelming?”

Geno nodded.

Death huffed, “you’ll have to adjust then. you’re not going back there.”

“what? wait, that was my home. like it or not, that’s where i belong, reaper.”

“nope. not anymore. you’re mine now, and i’m not plannin’ a trip to that part of the universe any time soon. i suggest learning how to garden.”

Geno’s eyelight flickered, and he made a low, irate sound, and twisted, actually fighting his way out of Death’s lap this time. His knees promptly buckled, landing him on his backside on the grass, and he pointed a menacing finger at the god, “i thought we were over this bullshit. just because i can’t die doesn’t mean i belong to you.”

Life, who’d seen the many faces of Death over the years, wasn’t shocked by Death’s flippance towards the mortal, nor the way he merely tilted his head as Geno shouted at him. He could be very, very cruel. It was Sans who faced the troubled Souls that fought back when death came knocking. The ones his brother wasn’t able to reap peacefully. He was the kind of god whose anger or despair could decay both the mortal and immortal realms. He didn’t like this aspect of himself (it was a quiet confession made when they were simply friends), but it was a part of him, rooted in the nature of his very existence.

Death knelt and ran a hand down the side of Geno’s skull, “keep tellin’ yourself that, my little genocide.” He straightened, leaving Geno to his fear or spite, and returned to Life’s side. “i’m keeping him.”

Another twist of the knife, “I see. I suppose, then, our affair has come to an end?”

Death blinked at her words, the implication settling, browbones furrowing, “why ya say that? my feelings for you haven’t changed, unless yours have?”

“The mortal?”

“...heh. it’s not like that, tori. you know how i feel about mortals.”

“So you’re not taking him as your lover?”

“uh, i am right here! will you two stop talking like i’m not here? hello!” The gods spared Geno a brief glance. His skull was flushed almost crimson.

“...no…”

“Hmph.”

“you don’t believe me?”

“Oh no, I believe you. I also believe you’re the most thick-skulled idiot I’ve ever known.” Life let her shoulders drop. Death wasn’t one to outright lie to her. He really wasn’t aware of how he felt for the mortal. And though his love was clear as a summer day, he hadn’t acknowledged it. Instead he became possessive, coveting the mortal as something akin to an object or pet. She wasn’t sure if that was worse or better than him embracing his affections and taking Geno as a lover outright. “You can keep him.” She reminded herself how often her fellow gods mingled amongst themselves and mortals, bonding ties a formality, generally a sign of allegiance should conflict occur. She could live with Death having his mortal if it meant he remained hers as well. 

Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn’t notice Death picking Geno up again and laying him on the bench, “bee good and rest up, geno. iv-y got to go-at.” Geno didn’t look at him, grumbling as Death patted his skull and grinned at Life, “thanks again. for everything. hopefully i’ll be able to escape a little longer next time, sunshine.” 

With that, they bid their goodbyes, once more leaving her alone with the mortal. 

“You don’t look too well. How about another nap?”

He conceded and fell back asleep.

Geno adjusted.

That was the only way to describe it. Each day he remained awake a little longer, grew a little stronger, recovering from the trauma of being ripped from his domain and dropped into a new one. He still felt no more alive to her, but he at least looked less frightful. And unlike Death, he could touch the flowers. So Life put him to work alongside her in the garden, not because she needed help, but because Geno needed purpose. She even marked the outline of a patch of land that he could plant whatever he liked. It was disconcerting to watch him in those first few days, where he simply sat and stared at the sky, huddled in a ball, before exhaustion drug him under. Like he was terrified that the clouds would descend and gobble him up. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked each day.

“...little less like i’m actively dying…” Was his usual response.

Life always gave his stats a once over, noting how they never shifted, no matter how much he was healed or how much he slept. A precarious fraction. Stable as a tower that caught itself mid collapse, perhaps by an errant board or beam. 

She found him tolerable company. Not as repulsive as Death was when he first trespassed in her sanctuary, but far from a friend. Like...a guest. An odd but benign presence she could mother over on occasion. Curiously, he only fussed when Death was around to witness her maternal minding. When they were alone and she decided to adjust his scarf or change his bandages, he didn’t voice a word beyond thanks. Life supposed it made sense. The mortal wouldn’t want to earn the ire of his hostess, not when he couldn’t be certain if he’d survive being kicked out. 

She held his life, as it were, in her palm.

A break in the tension eventually had to come.

“so, uh, you and reaper, you’re...together?”

It was late and fireflies danced over a glassy pond, theirs the only light beyond the stars glittering above. Life glanced up from where she knelt on the bank, a precocious fish nibbling at the paw tips still dangled in the water. “Yes.” She thought it obvious. Neither of them hid their conversations from Geno. 

“then why are you allowing me to stay here? shouldn’t you, i dunno, smite me for taking his attention away from you? that’s how the stories always go in the books. a god is a handsy idiot with a mortal, and their spouse disposes of the mortal.”

Life huffed, a slight laugh escaping, proof of how her companionship with Death colored her sense of humor over the years, “To start, he isn’t my husband...and I’d no more wish Death’s spite on myself then I’d wish my estranged husband’s on him.”

Geno goggled, “guess those mythology books weren’t wrong about the love affairs.” He tugged at his scarf, a nervous habit, “i know it’s overdue, but, uh, thanks. it’s nice here.”

After that exchange, there was a subtle shift in their relationship. Geno was quieter than Death, but on occasion, Life found herself exchanging puns with him. Not as raucously as with her lover, their quips traded in passing, with rare smiles growing more frequent on Geno’s somber grin. There were good days where he seemed almost happy. And others where he curled up in a corner of the garden, choking on blood, screams muffled by the gore bubbling through his teeth, eyes hollow voids, body frigid and convulsing. She came to appreciate the good days, and learned that the only aid she could offer on the bad were soothing murmurs and songs. 

She wouldn’t call it friendship, but Geno was as much a part of her garden as the flowers and trees. And so she cared for him.

Death’s relationship with Geno was far less subtle in its nuances. It was friendship, perhaps, but Life knew every moment that the god spent with the mortal was another second closer to him realizing the obvious. She watched Death creep up behind Geno while the mortal worked and scoop him up, hugging and laughing all the while Geno shrieked his offense; once his victim even used blue magic to dump them both in the pond. It was vivacious and playful and borderline violent, with Death wanting to hold the deathless mortal, and said mortal attempting to ram a sharpened bone into Death’s eyesocket. 

It was only when Death was around that Geno truly came alive.

For all his protests and threats, he perked up whenever he sensed the god’s presence, spoke louder, moved faster, complained more. Death would pun and Geno would gripe. Death would hug him and Geno would struggle. Death would leave and Geno would grow quiet, staring at the last spot the god stood for a few seconds longer each time.

Then one day, Geno did something she never even thought would happen.

It’d been almost a week since Death last visited and accosted him, when he approached her, head bowed, like a naughty child.

“Is something amiss?”

He shrugged and tilted his skull up, “no. yes? no. it’s stupid. i’m stupid for...never mind. sorry.” Geno looked so...frustrated.

“Please, speak freely, if there is something amiss, I would rather you tell me.”

He blinked and his whole skull flushed red, “canihaveahug?”

“Pardon?”

“fuck! i blame that touchy-feely asshole, because i was fine before and now him and his stupid face have been gone and i…” Geno was shaking. Her soul skipped a beat. It’d been a long time since she embraced another. Even longer since she embraced an adult. Her self isolation was long...intimacy a bittersweet memory. Life stared at the mortal and found that his request didn’t offend her. Instead, it made her yearn. Reminded of what her lover couldn’t offer. 

“I can grant your request,” Life said, kneeling and engulfing him in her arms before he could talk himself into leaving. Geno froze, stiff as stone, before shivering, and then, he went limp. She felt dampness against her shoulder, and heard the soft murmurs of apology, her true name intermixed. But the longer she listened, the more she realized she wasn’t the Toriel he meant. He was grieving a Toriel. Someone lost to him. There was much about Geno she didn’t know, especially his past. 

She soothed and held him until his breathing evened out. Asleep. 

Life was used to hearing shouting whenever Death visited.

As long as nobody sounded in pain or like there was an actual fight occurring, she learned to ignore it. Geno, in his own, ornery way, confessed that he didn’t mind Death’s attention, but didn’t want the god to know, or his overinflated head would explode from the ego boost. Apparently his younger brother freely manhandled him as a kid once he was big enough to carry him, and so he’d long since grown accustomed to somebody picking him up and carting him around. That was another conversation that led to him trying to hide his tears in her fur.

But today, there was a rather abrupt end to the noise. And it didn’t pick back up. Was Geno having one of his episodes? Naturally prone to fretting over those she cared about (because yes, Geno was rooted in her life), Life swept towards where she heard them arguing. She pushed aside some leaves, hoping she wouldn’t see Geno balled on the ground, and froze. 

Death and Geno were on the grass; Geno on his back with Death looming over him, cloak draping over them both, greenery dried and withered where his palms laid flat at either side of Geno’s skull. They were breathing heavily, Geno’s hands hidden in the folds of Death’s cloak. Geno’s scarf laid unfurled like a pool of blood haloed around his skull. Life heard Death chuckle.

Geno colored scarlet, “i hate you.”

“says the skeleton that dragged me down on top of him and has yet to let go of my ribcage.”

“what kind of weirdo doesn’t wear shirt?”

“the kind that don’t like overheating while wearing heavy black robes?”

“skeletons don’t overheat, you freak.”

“mmm. you say the sweetest things.”

“f-fuck you.”

“only if you ask nicely.” 

Geno stuttered and Death chuckled. He seemed like he was about to stand up when his laughter cut off with a strangled noise. 

“ah, heh, c-c-cAREFUL!” Death yelped. That rumbling, soft-spoken god of Death, yelped. Life didn’t even know that was possible. “always fighting dirty.”

“you’re an asshole.”

“the pot is calling the kettle black, bud, I am trying to stand up here…”

“tch. it’s called revenge for all the bullshit you’ve pulled.”

“your revenge is feelin’ up my bones? awe, you saying I give you a—”

“don’t you dare…”

“—boner.” Death cackled and Geno started to shove Death away. “what? if you’re trying to get me hot-and-bothered as revenge, then that means—”

“seriously, shut up. it’s not funny.” And he did sound serious. Death quieted, kneeling, watching as Geno sat up. 

Death reached out a hand, “geno?”

The mortal jerked away from the touch, “reaper, look, i get it, to you, i’m some sort of play thing. you love your toriel, and she’s the best damn thing you’ll ever have. and...and if she didn’t love your stupid ass, i..i might not have minded if...even if it was temporary...but...she’s been good to me. i won’t betray her trust like that.”

“...play thing? that’s what you think i think of you?”

“duh, you practically said it yourself the first day we were here. ‘you know how i feel about mortals’ and all that.”

“...oh…”

“tch. now piss off. and, y’know, apologize to your toriel for being such a dumbass lately. you’ve been ignoring her.”

Life stepped back, a paw over her fluttering soul.

Both Geno and Death were more reserved after the incident she accidentally spied upon. Geno almost stopped talking all together and ignored Death’s presence when he came to visit. And Death? He tried to hide it behind that manic rictus of his, but she knew him better, how that was how he smiled when distressed. Oh the folly of a gods and mortals falling in love. Inevitably bruising each other’s souls.

“he won’t talk to me, tori,” Death confided after another attempt at reconciliation fell flat. He went to embrace the mortal, arms dropping to his sides when Geno flinched away, his usual protests unsaid. Geno slipped away into the garden after that, leaving the gods to mingle without his presence. “i...i don’t understand.”

That tone. The last time he sounded like that was early on in their friendship, when they both found it careless and comforting, before the knew of their feelings for each other. He’d come to her complaining of how a mortal had tried to rescue a reaped soul, wondering why the mortal couldn’t just wait, they’d be reunited in death eventually. And then she’d posed to him the question of what would he do, of what would he feel, if she died. Disappeared. Taken away to someplace he couldn’t find. Unaware of if he would ever see her again. The longer she detailed the scenario, made him come to terms with the mortal’s anguish, the more he trembled, and eventually, be bid her to stop. A hard learned lesson in empathy.

Life smiled sadly at Sans, “He’s heartbroken, my love.”

“...what?”

“Sans, I saw what happened between the two of you.”

“tori?”

“You gave him a new chance at life, but pulled him unwillingly from his old one. You embraced him freely and with affection, but didn’t consider how a mortal might interpret it. He fell in love with you, and believes himself a fool for it. How could he allow himself to love someone that sees him as less than equal? A temporary amusement? Someone who would never return his affections, and shouldn’t, because he belongs to another.”

Death stared at her, “i...i don’t think of him as a temporary amusement. it’s not like that. i…” He stuttered to a stop.

Life breathed in deep, “You love him. You have loved him before you brought him into my garden.”

“you asked if i was ending our affair…”

“Sans, think very hard, what would you have done if Geno didn’t tell you to stop the other day?”

“it’s not like that, tori, i wouldn’t have—”

“Shh. What would you have done if he didn’t tell you to stop, but instead pulled you closer? Maybe even kissed you? You’ve never kissed another. It would have been something new. Maybe you’d have realized that he loved you and that you loved him. That you wanted him. What if he wasn’t in my garden when it occurred? What if the both of you were in his world still, no one around the cast judgement but yourself? What if we weren’t together, and were simply friends? What would you have done, Sans, if Geno did not have a reason to say no?”

Death’s shoulders slumped, “tori, i’m sorry. i didn’t...i didn’t realize. i should have…stars, you must hate me.”

“Oh Sans, that is the farthest thing from the truth.”

He clutched at his robes, as if disgusted with himself, “i fell in love with someone else! a mortal. a mortal that i asked my lover to save and protect. and...and if he had kissed me...if he hadn’t so much honor…” He looked ready to teleport away and wallow in his hateful self-revelation.

“I believe what broke his heart the most was your carelessness. He no doubt feels ashamed of himself for having feelings for someone who he believes thinks of him as an object.” Life knelt, putting them eye-to-eye, wishing deeply that she could hold him. “Running away won’t fix things between you. It will only solidify his belief that you were leading him on, trying to use him.”

“i love you, tori.”

“Now why are you saying that like I’ve said I’m going away forever? I told you when you first brought him that you could keep your mortal. And I knew your feelings then.”

“what?” Death barely refrained from touching her. “i really don’t understand.”

“If it means you are happy, I do not mind you having affections for Geno. I can only hope you remain at my side as well...You are important to me, Sans. You can be terribly foolish and you’ve gotten yourself in a mess I’m not sure you deserve forgiveness from...but if you and your mortal want to be together, then I will not stand in your way. You have my blessing.”

“you really are the sunshine in my dark world.”

Life stood up, a faint heat rising to her cheeks beneath her fur, “Go and grovel.”

Sans’ smile was almost childlike as he vanished from sight, teleporting away, no doubt to find where Geno hid.

“make him stop!” Geno pleaded (whined), half-hiding behind Life’s skirts. It was about a week into Death’s bid for forgiveness (courtship?), and the poor mortal was obviously harassed. Death peppered him with gifts from the mortal realm: chocolate, coffee, ketchup, burgers, hotdogs, slippers…(Speaking of slippers...Life could see the toes of those fuzzy, pink atrocities peeking out into view.) And he kept assuring Geno that he would keep bringing gifts until he agreed to speak with him. Sans really was terrible at this. 

She lifted a brow at Geno, who ducked his head as Death came floating to where Life had been minding her own business, watching ducklings hatch.

“geeeeeenooooo. come baaaaaaack. i’m sorry if you didn’t like my present.” The mortal flushed scarlet and she wondered exactly what kind of present Death tried today. “tori have you se—geno! there you are. why did you run away? i thought you might like some new clothes since you were so fond of the slippers i brought.”

Somehow, Geno colored darker, his vow of silence shattered with a squawk, “you should know exactly why, asshole. I’m a guy and that sorry excuse for an outfit is meant for girls!”

“really? it reminded me of the robes us gods favor.”

“how? it’s covered in fucking lace frills and ribbons.”

“it’s white, you like white.”

“it looks like a human wedding dress, dumbass.”

“oh, but why would only girls where something like this then? what do human males wear?”

“people die at weddings. you should know!”

“meh, i don’t pay attention to what they’re wearing, tiba-honest.”

“obviously!”

“i can be terribly unobservant.”

“understatement of the century.”

“but i’ve realized that i’ve been oblivious to your feelings. and to mine. in the process, i hurt you and toriel.” Geno curled his hands in Life’s gauzy robes, likely not even realizing he was doing it, his breath hitching. Death drifted closer, the bundle of white still in his arms, “if you can find it in your soul to forgive me, i would request a chance to prove to you that i...that i am deeply sorry.”

Geno, confused, glanced between them. Life had mercy on Death and placed a palm on Geno’s back, nudging him forward, “It is up to you whether you wish to forgive him, Geno.”

His shoulders slumped, “reaper...if you know my feelings then you know why i don’t think this is a good idea.”

“because you’re afraid you will be seduced by my irresistible self and ensnared by the lustful delights of bodily pleasure with a god?”

“oh my god!”

“yes?” Death grinned.

“did you just? you really just said that. in front of...uh...lady life, why are you laughing?”

Life snorted behind the paw she had pressed to her snout, “i apologize, but i must express, that was the worst confession i have ever heard. lustful delights? sans, have you been reading your brother’s romance novels again?”

“noooo. or i’d have mentioned something about heaving bosoms. why are there always so many heaving bosoms?”

“Don’t you mean leafing blossoms?”

“petal the truth, i’m not sure. budding affairs go cl-over my skull.”

Geno blinked and blinked again, “uh, what’s going on?”

The gods chuckled in merriment, until Death finally sobered again, “geno. i guess you could say i love you, in a me til we part sort of way.”

“love, but?” Geno looked at Life, who patted his shoulder.

“You can say no. You do not have to forgive him now or ever. But if you wish it, I will not stand between you and him.”

“don’t you love him?” 

Life smiled, gaze lifting to Death, “Yes, very much so. I decided a long while ago that I did not mind sharing, if it meant I could love him still.”

“oh. so, uh, it’s a package deal?”

“If that bothers you—” her smile faded.

“n-n-no! no. it...doesn’t…”

That look. Life recognized that look. It was the same one Death gave her when he started to see her as a woman, and not just a friend. A little confused. A little fascinated. And a little yearning. Her eyes widened, but she failed to correct his assumption. She had no idea that the mortal—Geno—had any feelings of that sort for her. Not with how he and Death danced around each other with such vivid violence. She flicked her gaze to Death, who was silent, staring, putting together the same pieces as she, those hidden little shards left bare by those words and that expression. He didn’t correct him either.

“Does that mean you’ve decided on forgiving him?”

Geno’s bare emotions returned back behind that mask of impertinence as he focused again on Sans, “tch. i don’t think he deserves my forgiveness yet. he was an ass and my anger can only be appeased with food. now fuck off, reaper, and get me a burger.”

Death laughed. A joyous, delighted sound. 

Forgiveness came slowly. Wounds took time to heal, and scars never quite fade. But Death and Geno were back to their usual antics, the newness of realized love coloring their interactions. Touches were softer. Embraces lingering. She caught them napping together once, Death floating above a branch, Geno sprawled on his chest. No longer did Geno stare pitifully when Death left, but instead, he grinned like a lovesick fool, that fragment of a Soul in his chest glowing faintly. They were happy, and she was glad for it. 

But she still wasn’t quite expecting Geno to approach her with a basket of vegetables and a shy smile. “h-hey lady life. stuff sure grows fast here...or i’ve been here longer than i thought. these are from the garden patch i’ve been working on.”

“How delightful!”

“i know we don’t have to eat and stuff, but, uh, would you like to maybe have lunch with me?”

Life agreed, a little curious, a little giddy. It felt strange and taboo but lovely all the same. He was a mortal. She loved all her creations, but time and time again she was reminded why it was wisest to keep her distance. Each time she dared to feel more for a mortal, Death snatched them away. She lost so many children...she tried to hard to keep them safe. But never were they satisfied. It was the nature of those with limited lifespans to yearn for an existence beyond the limits of her secret garden.

Except, this time, it wasn’t a child she cared about.

Geno was an adult. 

A potential paramour.

It wasn’t at all proper, but—

“would you like to eat by the lake?”

“That sounds nice.”

—he was already wormed into her Soul.

There were a few more moments like the picnic before it felt real. Before the affection Geno held became easier to see. Life granted him permission to use her name on one such occasion, and briefly, his expression became sad, before he nodded. “toriel,” he called her. Not Tori, like Death, like the Toriel he knew before. His Toriel was Tori. She was Life. Same as how she would never call Geno Sans, because that name belonged to Death and he alone. No matter that mortals could share a name, there was too much baggage for them to try to make it work. 

“hey toriel,” Geno said, his arms behind his back. Life glanced at him. They were sitting together at the gazebo that was as much as a house as a goddess who never slept needed. He pulled out a fistful of carefully picked flowers, “how are you to-daisy?”

She giggled. He glanced away. It was nice. 

Gentle and...nice.

She could just…

“—kiss you.”

Life covered her mouth, realizing that she’d just expressed that whole thought aloud. Poor Geno was rosy, obviously not expecting Life to declare that she could kiss him, all over a pun and some wildflowers. He swallowed and shrugged, as if trying to remain nonchalant, “s-sure. if you wanna.” Did she want to? It was a common expression and while the implication was there, neither of them outright discussed crossing the boundary between fragile friendship into something more. Life laid a paw on his cheek; he was shaking. “i...it’s been a while. sorry.” 

“But you and Sans?”

Geno cleared a nonexistent throat, “reaper and i haven’t…”

“Why? You are both so affectionate with each other.”

“just because i love the dumbass, doesn’t mean he’s off the hook yet...”

Life lifted a brow, and Geno laid a hand over her paw. For a long moment, they simply gazed at one another, and then, they leaned together. A soft kiss. Brief. Practically platonic. If it’d been a while for Geno, it had been lifetimes for her. Was...was this how kissing Sans might be like were his touch not deadly? Despite his Deathlessness, the unnatural state of his being, she no longer thought him akin to a dead thing. In the place of that anomaly that once made her leery was a very real, very alive monster. Tears sprang unexpectedly into her eyes. A deep craving for intimacy carving through her Soul. And she wasn’t the only one. Geno’s sockets were damp as well and he was staring. They weren’t who the other was thinking about, but maybe, just maybe, they could call this closure.

“can i kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

It was not long before Death came to visit again. 

He was idly chatting with Life when Geno decided to make himself known, wandering up to the god and staring at him. Death tilted his skull and grinned, evidently happy that he didn’t have to seek out the mortal. “you here for your present?” Geno pulled a face at the coo, since he most certainly wasn’t a prissy cat being soothed by its overly affectionate master. Death chuckled as he reached into his robes, likely to pull out a bottle of ketchup or a candy bar, but his quest was interrupted when Geno grabbed him by the cords at his throat and yanked him down to eye level. “uh, geno?”

His stare was focused and churlish, like he was contemplating the best way to turn Death’s sockets into planters for thorn bushes. “you’re an ass,” Geno stated plainly, before yanking the god into his arms and pulling their teeth together. There was nothing romantic about it...at first. Sans the inexperienced party at the mercy of a rather aggressive Geno, and clearly not at all bothered by playing catch up. He clutched at Geno with equal enthusiasm. Life turned her face away. Oh my. She glanced back only when she heard Death’s baritone. 

“that was...heh...wow.”

“Eloquent.”

Death shot her a half-lidded glare, before cuddling Geno to his chest.

“hey tori.”

“Yes, Sans?”

“i love you.”

“I love you too.”

“...i love him. i love geno.”

“I know you do.”

“...what about you?”

“I believe I feel more than friendship for him, yes. Is it love? Perhaps in time.”

“hey tori.”

“Hm?”

“d-do you think...we may be a family some day?”

“Sans?”

“i know i’m literally death, and he has only part of a soul, but you’re life. if anyone could make it happen…”

“Geno kissed you this morning and you are already contemplating the possibility of children? That seems rather fast.”

“it always felt rather pointless to bring up wanting a small army of children when i couldn’t…”

“Small army? You do not even know if it is possible and you want how many?”

“i mean one would be okay. but if we can have one, then what’s to stop us from having more? like two...or five...or a dozen. i think twenty is a nice number. paps would make the best uncle.”

She was Life. The idea of children in her garden again filled her Soul with Hope. Nobody, not even the gods, could know for certain what the future held, but for the first time in so long, Life felt...complete. Like when she was young and naive, before the death of her son drove a rift between her and Asgore. 

“toriel?”

She turned to see Geno approaching, having given her and Death distance to speak before he left. Life plucked up his hands in her own and together she swung them in circles, a dance with no pattern or name. He let himself be led along until he began to cough, blood dripping down his chin. Geno muttered apologies and she stroked his skull. 

It was Hope. A small, distant, improbable thing offered so much possible happiness. And so she chose to cling to it.

If could Life fall in love with Death, and Death find a soul he could hold, then maybe, just maybe, together they could sew seeds of a future in the decay.

**Author's Note:**

> END
> 
> Soooo, this fic sorta happened because after I wrote 'Glass Flowers', I decided to reread the Reapertale comic and skim some art, where I found a picture of LifeAfterDeath. And yeah. Now we have this. So y'all who though AfterDeath was a rare pair, I raise you a rare...trio...
> 
> STORY NOTES:  
> +The fic's title is all level's of symbolic. As found on Teleflora, "Legend has it that concealing a snapdragon makes a person appear fascinating and cordial, and in the language of flowers, snapdragons are said to represent both deception (perhaps tied to the notion of concealment) and graciousness." And the whole, seedpods looking like skulls, but it being a flower, yeah. 
> 
> +I think this is the first time I've written soriel...


End file.
